Part 2 (2/2)
She didn't answer, but simply walked over to the wicker slider and flopped down. She didn't know what to say to Rider, hadn't since Tara went off with Yonnie in a cloud of smoke months ago. Rather than speak, she watched her Guardian brother unscrew the top with care, but declined the first swig from the bottle. This was not how she'd planned to spend the first weekend in her place-dead drunk on the front steps.
”Aw, c'mon, D,” Rider said in a wistful tone and plopped down beside her. ”It's just me and you here, kiddo.”
She begrudgingly nodded, accepted a small sip, and handed the bottle back to Rider. ”I think you should slow down,” she said gently, watching him turn the bottle up and guzzle almost a pint of its contents.
”Yeah, maybe you're right,” he said, wiping his mouth on his jacket sleeve. ”I've already slowed down in every other way, so, yeah.” He proceeded to take another liberal swig of booze and gave her a jaunty smile. ”But not tonight.”
”What's on your mind, big brother?” she asked softly.
He looked out at the stars and nodded in the direction of Carlos's property a half mile away. ”Can't you smell it?”
Damali c.o.c.ked her head to the side and sniffed. The slight hint of burning ash filled her nostrils. She knew Yonnie's signature blind. ”Vamp transport.”
”Wasn't Tara's.”
Damali fell mute for a moment as Rider took a more careful sip of Jack Daniel's and set the bottle down on the porch floor. ”I know.”
”Yep.”
”I'm sorry.”
”Yep.” Rider's gaze went back to the horizon.
”He just probably came to visit Carlos... since Carlos's spot is almost finished.”
”Makes sense. Can't begrudge a man for checking in on his best hombre.”
”I'm sure that's all it was.”
Only the sounds of night responded as strained silence fell between them.
”Do you know how hard it was for me to come back here after all these years?” Rider said quietly, closing his eyes as he spoke.
”This is where I brought her, hoping for a miracle that never happened. I buried my heart here, D. This is sacred ground for me in more ways than one, and the fact that this b.a.s.t.a.r.d has access to it, is like him walking over my grave. I gotta get off this land.”
Rider had spoken so softly but with such intensity that she touched his arm. ”I'm so sorry,” she said in a tight whisper. ”Listen, I'll tell Carlos not to-”
”Only under emergency conditions, D,” Rider said flatly, no emotion in his tone. ”We're in a firefight, then his homeboy crosses the line to save his a.s.s. But just to stop on by and do a pop-call visit, can't tolerate it.”
”I'll let Carlos know,” she said, watching Rider stand slowly and straighten his back.
Rider thrust his chin up with unwavering dignity, even though he was as drunk as Cooter Brown.
”You need to have that conversation, as well as the one with Jose-soon.”
She stared at Rider, and a pair of bloodshot eyes stared back at her without blinking.
”Soon, D,” he repeated, holding her gaze until she nodded.
Finally, she looked away. She knew what Rider meant, and that was one of the many things she loved about him, he was always straight, no chaser, about things.
”I miss you, darlin',” he murmured. ”The house ain't the same without you... but, can't stay in the nest forever. We got new chickadees to feed and train, and gotta start this bulls.h.i.+t cycle all over again.” He sighed and hitched up his jeans, then took out a pack of Marlboro reds and tapped the back of it, extracting a b.u.t.t.
Damali watched him strike a stick match with his thumbnail and inhale slowly. ”You gotta take care of yourself, Rider.”
”So everybody tells me.” He motioned toward the bottle on the porch with his chin, and lifted an imaginary cowboy hat from his head, saluting her and adding a sad smile. ”Ma'am, it's time for this old gunslinger to go on back to the ponderosa.”
”Want me to drive you home?” she said, standing, deeply concerned about him getting behind the wheel of a car in his condition.
If the alcohol didn't send him into a tree, his state of mind surely would.
”Nah, I've crawled out of bars on my hands and knees. This is nothing but a little nightcap,” he said, weaving down her front steps, holding on to the rail. ”If you don't smell smoke in the distance, then I made it back just fine.”
She was down the steps and leaning on his driver's side door before he even got to the walkway. ”Rider, for real, now. Give me your keys. I'll-”
”Baby girl, I've let go,” he said, kissing her forehead and gently moving her aside. ”Now you let go. Okay? We can't watch you twenty-four-seven anymore, and you can't be all up in our house drama, either. Fair?”
Damali nodded and conceded. The man had a point, but still. ”I love you,” she said quietly, holding his arm.
”I love you, too,” he murmured as she filled his arms. He hugged her tightly and laid his cheek on the crown of her head. ”Some crew, huh?”
”Yeah. Some crew.”
They stood that way in her front yard for a long time, saying nothing, but allowing the comfort of human touch to transmit all that was necessary. When he let her go, she placed her hand over his heart. He shook his head and covered her hand briefly, but then removed it.
”You can't put the healing balm on this man with a supposedly good heart, baby. Not even Marlene could do that.” He tweaked her nose and got into his vehicle. ”Only a soul mate can do that for you. But I appreciate the attempt.”
She folded her arms and stepped away from his Jeep, fighting tears. d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, it was not supposed to go down like this.
”You think you oughta slow down on that Remy?” Yonnie said as he watched Carlos pour another drink at the bar. He gave Carlos a glance from the corner of his eye and then sipped his drink to finish it slowly.
Carlos leaned forward on his forearms, propping himself up. ”I'm cool, man. We supposed to be out in the world tonight, right?”
”True dat,” Yonnie said, pouring himself a splash of Remy Martin from Carlos's bottle, then adding a bit of color from the gold flask he carried in the breast pocket of his suit.
”See, that's what I'm talking 'bout,” Carlos said, referring to Yonnie's flask. ”A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.” He weaved a bit on his bar stool and leaned closer to Yonnie. ”But you didn't have to go civilian just for me. We coulda did a vamp club, whateva, man.”
Yonnie let out a long breath through his nose and studied his drink. ”First of all,” he said quietly, ”you're system is so squeaky clean, right about through here, your a.s.s is drunk. You been eating holistic, no red meat and s.h.i.+t, for months. That first bottle of Remy behind several martinis has your a.s.s lit; the second one you're working on will probably make you pa.s.s out. Not advisable to be out of your element and in a zone like that. Sloppy.”
”Man, I'm-”
”Second of all,” Yonnie said, not allowing him to finish the slurred comment, ”like I told you, there are no more openly vamp joints.”
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